The Other Night Guards
by Gwen Gamgee
Summary: Why exactly weren't the Smithsonian night guards around for the big night? An attempt to answer that question in this one shot.


**Ok, this is one of those that I could see actually going somewhere, and I may or may not actually write a second chapter some day. For right now though, it's just an interesting one shot of behind the scenes in "Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian." **

**I just thought while I watched this movie, "Doesn't the Smithsonian have night guards of their own? What the heck are they _doing_ during all of this?" So, this is my take on why the heck they weren't helping poor Larry out. Please, enjoy.**

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"What are we going to do?" The whisper was tense and frightened, most unlike what normally came out of the young guard's mouth.

"I'd like to say we go out and kick Mr. Fancy Pharoah's rear end," replied one of the older guards, "But unfortunetly, that isn't an option right now."

About ten men of varying age and race were clustered within the small video room, all wearing the uniform of the Smithsonian guard. The unfortunate bunch had been locked in the room during thier usual coffee break earlier in the evening. They had been both frightened and surprised when they discovered by watching the video moniters that they were, in fact, being held prisoner by the same exibits they had so faithfully guarded in years past. To be specific, they'd been locked in by the Al Capone maniquins.

"What about that one guy?" Brandon (Brundun) asked.

"You mean the one that stole your ID card?" quipped one of the others.

"Hey!" Brandon argued, "That guy is a seriously hard core kinda guy. He could've taken it by force if he wanted."

"Yeah," the one guard watching the earlier hour tapes agreed, "I noticed when I went over the end of your first shift." Brandon went red and indignit.

"Shut up Jason!"

"He certainly seems to know what he's doing," the older guard admitted, watching the 'night guard' on the camera, aiming a pitch fork at the egyptian guards. "Is that- Amelia Earhart with him?" Another one of the guards leaned in next to him.

"She was down in the lower levels getting a clean up this week," he said, looking in awe at the figure.

"Thank you Nels."

"Look," Brandon said, trying to get thier attention, "The guy said he'd seen stuff I couldn't even imagine, seriously," he stressed, "That's what the freaky dude who stole my card said. Maybe he's here cause of that," he said pointing to the screen, "He said he was a night guard, I dunno, maybe he knew something was going on..."

"Honestly Brundun," Nels chastised him, "How stupid do you have to be? There is no way anyone could expect this. The guy lied to you. He probably caused all this!"

"I don't know," The older guard mused, still watching the screen as the man went into one of the picture in the art museum, "He doesn't seem to be friends of our Mr. Kamunra down there, and that seems to be a good thing. Jason, you got anything on last night yet?"

"Yes sir Mr. Detin sir." The guards crowded behind Jason as he played for them a sped up version of last nights events. "It seems the problem comes from the exibits that came from New York to go in storage. They have this plaque thing, which we've already determined our Pharoah friend wants. Seems the bunch of 'em held him off all last night, ending in a stand still, with them trapped inside the metal box there. Now," he said, pauseing the tape on a particualar scene, "at around nine last night, one of the little dudes, I think it's a cowboy, hard to tell, made phone call. I'm thinking, and this is just a guess, that that's where our mystery gaurd came from." Mr. Dentin nodded in agreement.

"So he's friends with the New York Crew."

"This is insane!" Nels pointed out, "There is no way the exibits are comeing to life. It just doesn't make sense!"

"Sense or not, we have to deal with it," Mr. Dentin reminded him. "Now, right now we need info. Less, I want you on the laptop of yours, finding out what you can about that tablet."

"Right sir."

"Kevin? I need you on our computer over here, seeing if you can find out who that maniquin called last night. Derek, I need you to find out if the phones are still working, let the police know we have a situation, but try not to go into detail. They'd just call us nutters and hang up."

"You sure we aren't nutters?" Nels put in.

"Nels, if you have nothing constuctive to add, I'd like you to stand in the corner and shut up. Jason, I need a translation of what the Phroah was on about earlier today when that night guard showed up."

"On it sir."

"Anything I can do sir?" Brandon asked.

"Keep track of your friend there," Mr Detin motioned toward the screen, "let me know if anything happens. And you two," he motioned to the remaining guards, "We're going to work on a way out of this room. I'm not about to be cripled by some cardboard gangsters."

"Oh good luck with that sir."

"Shut it Nels."

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**Personally, I know a Nels who actually would act like this. Hence his inclusion in this piece. Anyways, you like? Does it truly need another chapter? Please, let me know.**


End file.
